


Roughing

by mythicaliz



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Violence, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Hockey, Jockstraps, Link is a goon, Link likes it rough, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, Shower Sex, Strangers to enemies, recreational hockey, rhink on the rink, so does Rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicaliz/pseuds/mythicaliz
Summary: Rhett moves to Canada for work and decides to pick up his old past time by playing hockey in a recreational league. He's looking to make friends, and blow off some steam, and maybe meet a cute guy. It's a shame that the hottest guy in the league,  number 69, is also a goon and a jackass.





	1. Hip Check

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Olympics! As a Canadian, hockey loving lady I figured a hockey AU was in order. Enjoy this stupid, stupid story. I promise things are gonna get really smutty.
> 
> [I also made a hockey themed playlist on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/12176694944/playlist/2kW6uZp4B0bMJEIGYgiFbL?si=a6lSftZTRJyV6_pXIqEUrQ)

 

 **Hip Check** - _leaning or bending the knees to check an opponent using one’s hips. A hip check is performed by a player in a defensive situation trying to stop an attacker from getting past him or trying to separate an attacker from the puck._

* * *

Rhett took a deep breath and readjusted his hockey bag on his shoulder as he walked into the community arena. It had been a good decade since he’d played hockey but moving to a new city for a new job meant he had to put himself out there. People had made fun of him for getting into hockey back in North Carolina but now that he'd moved north for work he was grateful. Canadians eat, sleep and breathe hockey. He needed a way to make friends outside his job and there was no better way to make friends than the camaraderie of sports. It was just recreational hockey. Most of the guys were in their thirties, and just wanted to have fun and blow off steam. Exactly what he was looking for. And if there happened to be a cute guy in the league, well, that would be a bonus. Although he wasn’t holding out any hope for that.

 

He pushed the door to the men’s locker room marked with his team name, “Firebirds” and put on his pads and red jersey. Number sixteen in honour of his favourite player, Brett Hull. He put on his skates and laced them up tight. It had been many years but the snugness was familiar and comforting. He stood up, nearly seven feet tall, and made his way to the ice. Most of his teammates were already warming up, skating around the rink. He’d met many of them the week previous at a local bar when they had gone for a beer and spent some time getting to know each other. He nodded to his teammates as he skated around to warm up. His captain Mike “Sully” Sullivan, clapped him on the back with a gloved hand, “welcome to the team, Rhett, let’s get ‘em,” he said with a grin.

 

The other team was also warming up. The Muskrats, who wore black and white jerseys. He scanned the other players, sizing them up.  He was by far the tallest person on the ice but a chill went down his spine as he saw a guy working a puck around the rink. His blue eyes were trained on Rhett as he skated past, spraying ice as he stopped quickly in front of him. He looked Rhett up and down, turned, and sprinted to the other end of the ice. Rhett squinted to read the back of his jersey.  _ NEAL _ it said in square white letters with a large number sixty-nine on the back. Rhett rolled his eyes. 

 

The whistle blew and the first shift headed to centre ice for the faceoff. Rhett took his position as right winger and lo and behold was face to face with number sixty-nine, playing left wing. “Hey stretch,” the blue eyed man yelled over to Rhett, “nice beard, but it ain’t the playoffs.”

 

Rhett steadied himself and chomped down on his mouth guard, trying to ignore the chirping asshole he was facing off against.          

 

The ref blew the whistle and dropped the puck at centre ice. The Firebirds forward took control of the puck and Rhett shot into gear, getting into position to take control. Neal was immediately on top of him, skating in front of him taking every opportunity to block him from receiving the puck. Rhett darted in and out of other players trying to lose him and get to the puck. Rhett skated to one end of the rink, spun around quickly and sprinted back the other way. “Didn’t know they let figure skaters play hockey!” Neal yelled as he whizzed passed.

 

Rhett skated to the bench for a shift change. It had been years since he’d played and was huffing like crazy, trying to catch his breath. He could feel how red his face was, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He watched number sixty-nine skate over to his own bench.  _ What a cocky jerk _ Rhett thought as he watched Neal squirt water into his mouth from his green sports bottle.  _ Who does he think he is? _ Rhett was unable to tear his eyes off the man who chewed on the corner of his yellow mouth guard absentmindedly as he hollered "get ‘em, boys!” At his teammates and slapped the side boards with his glove. 

 

The entire game Neal was  _ on him. _ He made sure they changed shifts at the same time, heading to the bench the second Rhett went to his, and back on the ice simultaneously too. Rhett just couldn’t catch a break. Finally half way through the third period Rhett got control of the puck. He skated down the ice on a breakaway. He was so fast he felt untouchable, like there was no way he couldn’t make this goal. He didn’t even see Neal coming. One second he was skating faster than he had in his entire life, working the puck back and forth, lining up for the perfect shot, when the blue eyed man in a black and white jersey hip-checked him and flicked the puck out of his path to a fellow Muskrat. 

 

Rhett groaned at the pain. Despite all the padding and protective gear he could practically feel the bruise forming on his flank. He narrowed his eyes at Neal and charged back across the ice, determined to get the puck. With one minute of game play left Rhett managed to get the puck again. He skated swiftly down the ice, he knew Neal wasn’t far behind. At this point he could feel his icy stare through the back of his helmet. He made no indication that under any circumstance would he give up the puck. But just as Neal was about to check him again, he flicked the puck backwards to his team mate who brought it to the crease and tipped it in, for a game winning goal.

 

The buzzer rang indicating the end of play. His teammates all piled on each other in a victory hug, slapping each other’s helmets in a congratulatory manner. Rhett had hoped to score, to show that he belonged there. That even though he was older than most of his teammates he could hold his own. But at least he got an assist. He wasn’t completely useless. Still, he would have played a lot better if it hadn’t been for that Muskrat, Neal.

 

Rhett made his way to the locker room.  _ Who does that jackass think he is? _ He thought.  It was rec hockey, it was supposed to be fun. Rhett stripped out of his sweaty gear and hit the shower, his body aching from the exertion. He popped open a bottle of minty 2-in-1 shampoo-body wash and lathered up. The hot water felt good as he massaged the suds into his hair and down his body. His eyes closed as he rubbed the lather onto his chest and belly. All he could think of was the exceptionally blue eyes that were somehow icier than the rink. 

 

He stayed in the shower longer than he had intended, the hot water relaxing his sore muscles. He knew the next day he’d be walking stiffly around the office, groaning and moaning, and he’d probably have a bruise from his nipple to his hip bone, but it had felt good to get back on the ice. He pulled on his jeans and a grey sweatshirt with blue cacti on it and hefted his bag onto his shoulder. 

 

He stood in the atrium of the rec centre, chatting with his teammates when a man caught his attention. If it hadn’t been for his impossibly blue eyes Rhett would have never guessed this man was the same as the goon harassing him on the ice. Rhett was surprised by how small he was out of his gear.  He was tall, but thin; verging on lanky, save for his toned biceps and disproportionately broad shoulders. His salt and pepper hair was shaved on the sides and swooped over on the top stylishly. He wore grey skinny jeans, a black sweatshirt with a colourful wolf design on it, and thick, square two toned glasses.

 

His eyes met Rhett’s as he walked across the atrium to the exit and he winked. “Good game, eh?” he said pointedly as he walked past on his way to the parking lot.

 

When he got home Rhett checked his game schedule and was thankful it would be another three weeks before he would have to face off against Neal again.           

 


	2. Power Play

 

Power Play _\- in ice hockey, a team is said to be on a power play when at least one opposing player is serving a penalty, and the team has a numerical advantage on the ice. (when both teams have the same number of players on the ice, there is no power play)-Wiki_

 

Hat trick _\- When a player scores 3 goals in a game_

 

High-sticking- _strike an opponent on or above the shoulders with one’s stick_  

 

Rhett was distracted all day at work. It was silly to be nervous about his hockey game that night. Since his first game he’d played half a dozen other teams and hadn’t been nervous for any of them. He’d played well, even gotten a hat trick one game. But, the fact he was going up against The Muskrats again, and that asshole Neal had him sweating. 

 

He got to the rink early, and took extra care getting ready, making sure his pads were secured properly. He’d even bought new red laces for his skates to match his jersey. He got on the ice before everyone else, skating laps around the rink, darting in and out, sprinting across the ice like he was on a breakaway. He was already winded when the other players took the ice, bent over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “You gonna make it, bud?” the blue eyed man quipped as he skated past. Rhett bit down hard on his mouth guard.

 

Rhett was on the second shift. He watched the face off intensely and cheered when his team won the face off. Throughout most of the game he managed to avoid Neal, getting on the ice as soon as Neal went to his bench, and returning to his own as soon as Neal’s shift began. He played well, getting a goal and two assists.

 

The third period began and Neal was back on the same shift as him. He had two choices, bench himself and barely play the last period, or play hard and not let the goon get the best of him. 

 

He skated hard, keenly aware of the position of number sixty-nine, trying to stay one step ahead of him. The game was tied four-four. With five minutes left both teams were amped up trying to score. Neal had control of the puck and skated past the blue line. Rhett sprinted across the rink in pursuit of the puck. Rhett came up beside him and tried to get the puck out of his control, using his height and reach to his advantage. Neal raised his stick sharply, hitting Rhett in the face with the handle.

 

Rhett’s vision went black for a second and when he opened his eyes saw red drops on the white ice. Confused he wiped his face with his glove and saw a smear of blood. The ref blew the whistle, “two minutes for high-sticking,” the referee announced, ushering Neal into the penalty box. Rhett skated over to his bench and Captain Sully handed him an ice pack and a towel.

 

Rhett watched his team on the powerplay and although it felt like his entire face was broken, he cheered wildly as his team scored two goals. Neal sulked in the penalty box as he watched his team lose.

 

Rhett sat on the bench in the locker room with a bag of ice on the bridge of his nose. He was pretty sure it wasn’t broken, but dang if it didn’t hurt. After fifteen minutes the bleeding finally stopped. Most of his teammates had changed and left the locker room when the door opened and a few of the members of the opposing team entered. “Seems like all the showers are broken in our locker room, cool if we use yours?” the goalie for The Muskrats asked. Rhett shrugged and gave the go ahead. He stripped down and entered the communal shower room. He chose the shower head in the furthest corner, there were a few unoccupied ones around him and he wanted to give the other team their space. He stood back, a long arm reaching under the showerhead to feel the temperature of the water. He adjusted the knob and stretched his arm out again, making sure it was just right before stepping under. 

 

He closed his eyes and bent his head back under the stream of water, wetting his hair and beard. He heard the shower beside him turn on and he slowly opened one eye, then the other, to see Neal beside him. He tried not to let his eyes travel down the man’s lean body but he couldn’t help it. He hasn’t met anyone since he’d moved to his new city and there was something about this guy. His shoulders were so broad for his tiny frame, his collar bones so sharp. His eyes traveled down the dark patches of hair on his chest and belly. Neal turned to reached for his shampoo and Rhett couldn’t help but stare at his round little firm butt. Rhett’s breath hitched audibly and Neal turned around. Rhett’s eyes shot down to his feet, all of a sudden extremely interested in the shower floor tile. When he was sure Neal had looked away he let his eyes travel again, to the man’s thick pink lips and ridiculously large adam’s apple. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself, he glanced quickly at the man’s crotch. He immediately realized that was a mistake because the quick glance at his soft, yet impressive, package was already making Rhett hard. He thought about dropping to his knees and working Neal with his hands and mouth until he was hard, his knees shaking as Rhett sucked him off. 

 

Rhett turned his back to Neal and started shampooing, willing his arousal away _. I really need to get laid if this guy is looking good to me_. He thought to himself as he lathered up. 


	3. Shinny

 

**Shinny** (also shinney, pick-up hockey, pond hockey or outdoor puck) _ \- an informal type of hockey played on ice. There are no formal rules or specific positions, and generally, there are no goaltenders. Body checking is forbidden as players are not wearing protective gear _ . -wiki

 

**Toque** \-  _ a winter hat. Beanie. R&L call it a toboggan, but that’s what we call a sled… _

 

**Biscuit** _ -the puck _

 

A cold snap had finally hit which meant the outdoor rinks were  serviceable and Rhett was chomping at the bit to get on the ice and put in some more practice before he had to face the Muskrats again. Despite being -22c he knew he’d get warm so he layered up. Long johns, thick sweatpants, waterproof splash pants, and thick wool socks on the bottom, and a thermal long sleeved shirt, a second long sleeved shirt, a Carolina Hurricanes hoodie and his parka on top. He felt like the Staypuft marshmallow man he had on so many layers. Briefly he cursed himself for moving to a city that got so ridiculously cold. He topped things off with a grey neck warmer, red mittens, and an orange toque. He pulled on his Sorrel boots and carried his skates slung over his shoulder as he walked down to the rink, a hockey stick in his mittened hand and a puck in his pocket. 

 

It was cold. Ungodly fridged. But the sun was shining and there was something beautiful about all the crisp white snow. Somehow it insulated things and the world seemed a little quieter. He hummed as he walked the two blocks to the local park where a rink had been erected for the winter. He was disappointed to see a few adults already skating around the ice. He thought about walking a few more blocks to another rink but he was already here and it was too cold to walk. He needed to skate to get his body heat flowing. 

 

He sat on a wooden bench and laced up his skates. “Hey bud,” a man yelled as he skated over to him, “gonna get a game of shinny goin’ throw yer stick in.” Rhett opened the wooden door to the ice and threw his stick in the pile in the middle of the rink. He skated around a few times and one more guy, who wore a grey ski mask, joined, thrower his stick in and got on the ice.

 

Rhett ditched his mittens for a lighter pair of gloves in his pocket and, sufficiently warmed up, removed his parka too and put it neatly beside his boots. The late addition followed suit and removed his coat and rolled up his balaclava. Rhett sighed when he saw the face of his hockey nemesis under the grey face covering. “Alright boys!” the largest guy yelled and the men lined up at centre ice. 

 

“Huh, you’re here,” Neal said, looking Rhett up and down. Rhett swallowed the lump in his throat.

 

“Yup,” he said cooly, watching as the big man picked sticks determining who would be on whose team.

 

He pulled Rhett’s stick third, and motioned for Rhett to join the team on the far side of the rink. He kept picking until there were two left. Rhett held his breath, waiting to see if Neal would be on his team or the opposition. The leader picked the second last stick and handed it Neal, placing him on Rhett’s team.

 

Rhett wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. On the one hand, it meant Neal wouldn’t be after him all game, but on the other hand, they would have to work together. It was three on three, no goalies. Shinny basically had no rules or positions. The only rule was no contact. Without helmets and pads it was way too dangerous, and everyone was there to just have fun.  

 

The puck dropped and the short chubby man on their team took control of the puck, he skated down the ice to the opposing team’s goal and shot, but it was blocked by a guy on the other team who brought it down the ice, shot it past Rhett to his team mate, who shot it into the goal. 

 

Rhett was trying to adjust to the different style of game. The rink was a third the size of the area he usually played in, and the pace slower. With no one to spell each other off it meant conserving energy to keep playing. Also three on three with no goalie was vastly different than six on six. 

 

“Look alive, buddyroll,” Neal said to Rhett as he skated past. 

 

Rhett tried to shake it off, that even on the same team this asshole was going to antagonize him. 

 

Rhett got control of the puck, Neal was in a perfect position to score but Rhett couldn’t give him the satisfaction, instead he skated down the ice fast, the other team surrounded him all trying to get the puck. 

 

“I’m open, pass the biscuit!” Neal hollered but Rhett ignored him, trying to make a goal instead. It was a massive fail, instead of shooting into the goal he shot it directly into the path of the other team’s best player who shot the puck across the entire rink and made a goal. The other team cheered and skated a celly victory lap.

 

Game play resumed and Rhett’s team just couldn’t catch a break. They weren't working well together, each man hogged the puck instead of relying on his teammates. Meanwhile, the other team could practically read each other’s minds. No one kept score in shinny, it was just for fun, but Rhett was painfully aware that his team had made no goals and the other team had at least half a dozen.

 

Despite the frigid temperatures Rhett was sweating like crazy, steam was curling off his body. He wished he had brought a water bottle, even though it probably would have frozen. 

 

One of the players on the other team checked his watch, “wadda ya say boys? Call it in five? The missus will want me home soon and it’s gettin’ dark.” They all agreed, five more minutes. Rhett just wanted his misery to end.

 

Rhett got control of the puck, he was going to score if it killed him. Neal pulled up on his side and Rhett shot the puck over to him. Neal carried it down the ice and around the goal where Rhett was waiting for him. Neal shot it back to Rhett who tipped it into the net for a well deserved goal. 

 

Neal skated over to him with his stick above his head in celebration. The rink was rough, not like the arena rink that was properly cared for and had the use of a zamboni. Neal’s skate caught on a bump of ice and he crashed into Rhett knocking both of them on the ice. Rhett on his back, Link on top of him. 

 

They both groaned loudly. “Get a room you beauties!” their teammate yelled over to them. “Sorry,” Neal whispered sheepishly. He didn’t move right away though. Rhett sighed at the weight of the man on top of him, he could smell his sweat and their lips were dangerously close. It was almost too much to take. But Neal finally rolled off of him and got up. “Here princess,” he said extending a gloved hand out to help Rhett back onto his feet. Rhett scowled.  _ Princess _ ? What a jackass. He had half a mind to punch him then and there but he figured he’d better just go home. Rhett was ashamed that for a split second he enjoyed making such close contact with a homophobic idiot. 

 

The game was over, and for the most part he’d played terribly, and was desperately in need of a hot shower to deal with how cold and smelly he was, even despite having to play with Neal  he had a good time. “Hey McLaughlin,” Neal said, skating over to the board where Rhett was taking off his skates and putting on his boots and parka. “Gonna go for a beer, you wanna join?” 

 

“No, man.” Rhett said as he got up and walked briskly down the street towards his apartment. 

 

A few minutes later a black Buick pulled up beside him, driving slowly to match his pace. “Hey, come for a beer,” Neal hollered out the window. Rhett waved his hand over his head, motioning for Neal to drive away. “Come on, dude, I'll buy. I owe you after that bloody nose I gave ya last week, and toppling ya earlier,” Link yelled.

 

Rhett stopped on the sidewalk and Neal pressed on the brake. “Why do you want me to go, you hate me?” Rhett asked.

 

“What? It’s just hockey man, but, whatever.” he drove off and Rhett squinted at the thin horizontal sticker above the handle for the hatchback on the back of Neal’s car.  _ No, _ he thought.  _ It can’t be... a rainbow flag? _ He stood in the middle of the sidewalk dumbfounded as the car pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things get real dirty next chapter ;)


	4. Fighting

**Roughing** _ \- any act where a player uses unnecessary force to push or shove an opponent or make avoidable physical contact with an opponent after the whistle. Under this rule a penalty for roughing should also be assessed to a player who delivers an avoidable body check to an opponent who is no longer in possession and control of the puck _ \- USA Hockey Rulebook

**Fighting** _ \- a punch, or attempted punch, thrown by any player in the direction of an opponent, regardless as to whether contact is made, is considered fighting. A major plus a game misconduct penalty shall be assessed to any player who engaged in fighting. _ \- usahockeyrulebook.com

 

A week and a half after the game of shinny his team was once again going up against Neal and Rhett’s head had been spinning. Why did that asshole invite him out for a beer? If he didn’t hate him why was he such as jerk, and if he did hate him what was the reason? And what was up with that dang bumper sticker. Was it a homophobic joke? Was he gay? None of it made sense. 

 

He walked into the locker room which was unusually crowded. “Sorry brother, the other locker room is closed while they fix the showers so we gotta double up,” Sully, the captain of The Firebirds said to Rhett with a sympathetic glance. Rhett groaned when he saw the only free locker was the once beside Neal.  Rhett walked up and dropped his bag on the bench, unzipped it and pulled out his gear. 

 

“Yo Link,” someone on the opposing team hollered. “Got any tape?” 

 

“Sure,” Neal said, as he pulled a roll of black hockey tape out of his locker and tossed it to his teammate.

 

_ Link,  _ Rhett thought.  _ So that’s his name.  _ Rhett turned away from Link as he tucked himself into his jockstrap, shuttering slightly at the temperature of his hand on his cock, still icy from the winter weather outside. He turned back around and pulled out the rest of his gear. He tried not to watch Link get ready but it was hard to pull his eyes away from Link’s long fingers as he strapped on his pads. Rhett sighed.  _ Get it together McLaughlin, _ he thought as he banished any thought of what those long fingers might feel like on his skin.

 

“Hey,” Link said to Rhett. “That was fun, playin’ shinny.” 

 

Rhett pulled his jersey over his head, “hmm… yeah,” he replied coolly. He had been in agony week from his back hitting the ice. Thankfully he hadn’t hit his head, but his back wasn’t great on a good day, so the added trauma had him hobbling around most of the week. A few visits to his physiotherapist to get adjusted, and lots of epsom salt baths and he was finally in semi decent shape to play but he wasn’t pleased about it. 

 

“I looked for you at the rink on Saturday but I guess you were busy,” Link said as he tightened his laces.

 

“My back was still pretty bad, after that tumble,” Rhett replied.

 

“Oh shit man, old guys like us eh? Think we can keep up with the boys,” Link said with a wink.

 

_ Old guys? _ Rhett thought.  _ At least I’m not grey. _ “Speak for yourself, gramps,” Rhett replied as he picked up his helmet and stick and walked towards the rink.

 

Rhett warmed up, he was tentative at first but once he skated around a bit his back was feeling good and he was ready to take that fucker, Neal, down. They lined up at centre ice for the face off and the Muskrats forward took control of the puck. Rhett checked the forward, took control of the puck and passed it to one of his teammates. Usually he wasn’t an aggressor but damned if he’d let Neal call him an old man. He’d prove that he was one of the boys if it killed him.

 

Throughout the game he was on the other team, hip checking, barreling down the ice charging the other team. The more aggressive he got the more Link was on him. “Look who finally showed up to play,” Neal yelled as he skated past. Rhett narrowed his eyes and tapped his stick on the ice. Link was in control of the puck and passed it to one of his teammates. Rhett slammed Link into the boards. “What the heck, man?” Link said dazed. The referee blew the whistle, “two minutes for roughing,” he said, leading Rhett to the penalty box. 

 

Rhett opened the gate to the penalty box and sat there in solitude. He felt like an utter asshole. This wasn’t who he was, he didn’t play like this, but Link just got under his skin. He watched the Muskrats score two goals while they had the power play. He was responsible for them getting those two goals, and his stomach twisted with guilt for letting his team down. When his penalty was over he went back to his team’s bench.

“What’s gotten into you, McLaughlin?” Sully asked. 

 

“Sorry Sully, my head ain’t right tonight.”

 

“Pull your shit together,” Sully replied as he took the ice.

 

Rhett played better the rest of the second period. Neal was on him, but he tried to not let it get to him. His team was still down one goal and he desperately wanted them to recover and win. At the beginning of the third he had the puck and was on a breakaway, about to score, when Neal swooped in and knocked the puck out of his path, sending it backwards to another Muskrat. 

 

“Fuck,” Rhett said, as Neal nearly crashed into him. “Watch where yer goin’,” he yelled as he grabbed Link’s jersey. 

 

“You wanna go?!” Link replied as he shoved Rhett in the shoulder.

 

Rhett threw his gloves down onto the ice and dropped his stick, Link followed suit. Game play stopped as their teammates circled around them. Rhett pulled back and punched Link in the nose. Blood poured out of him. Link punched him back in the temple. Each man got a few more blows in before their teammates separated them. “Five for fighting,” the ref replied as they were pulled apart and ushered to the penalty boxes. Both men had ice on their faces as they tried to slow the blood. A medic came and checked them both out. She applied a butterfly bandage over Rhett’s left eye to close the gash and made him wash the blood out of his mouth. She checked Link’s nose to ensure it wasn’t broken and gave him the all clear. 

 

Sully opened the door to the penalty box, “Rhett, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you’re done for the night. Go home.” Rhett felt like he was going to explode. Hockey was the one thing he had in his life to blow off steam and relax and instead the asshole that was number sixty-nine, Link Neal, was ruining it for him.

Rhett stormed into the locker room ahead of everyone else, and threw a glove at the locker. This guy just knew how to get under his skin. He wasn’t proud of how he had played, and to add insult to injury his team had probably lost. As the players filtered into the change room when the game was over he went into a bathroom stall and hung out for a while, unwilling to face his teammates. When it sounded like most of them had showered and left he made his way back into the change room. 

 

It was totally empty aside from Link, who was putting on his boxers. “Hey, I’m sorry bud. Sometimes I just get too into it,” Link said looking up at Rhett. 

 

“Whatever, man,” Rhett replied, digging in his bag for his body wash.

 

“Hey.” Link said, getting his face close to Rhett’s, “you don’t have to be a jerk.”

 

Rhett huffed air out of his nose, “Right, I’m the jerk,” he muttered. 

 

Link shoved him against the locker. “Yeah you’re a jerk. If you don’t like me just say so instead of being an asshole.”

 

“What do you mean?” Rhett said, confused at the words still lingering in the air.

 

Link walked right up to Rhett, planting his feet between Rhett’s legs, his knee between Rhett’s pushing Rhett’s legs open as his hips met his. “I like you,” he said almost menacingly. 

 

“Well you have a fucking funny way of showing it,” Rhett replied, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.

 

Link pushed Rhett’s knees apart wider with his, his body pressed up against his as he pushed him into the locker, his lips crashing into Rhett’s. He kisses were hard and rough, not unlike his gameplay. “That better?” Link asked.

 

He kissed Rhett hard and Rhett reciprocated, kissing back, a hand making its way up to Link’s shower damp hair. “I thought you were hot,” Link said between kissing Rhett’s neck “the second I saw you.” he pulled Rhett’s jersey off and continued to kiss him. 

 

“How did you mmmmmm… I mean, do you have really good gaydar or something?” Rhett asked and Link kissed Rhett’s neck and shoulders.

 

“I see the way you look at me. Sully confirmed it,” Link said as he continued to pepper kisses over Rhett’s chest and belly. “He likes playing matchmaker.” Rhett briefly thought about his team captain, Sully, not sure if he should be angry or grateful, but his attention was brought back to earth when Link dropped to his knees. 

 

His hands began unlacing Rhett’s pants. “This ok?” he whispered as he licked Rhett’s belly. 

 

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “I mean, no.”

 

“Oh…” Link said, his hands falling to his sides, dejected.

 

“No I mean, it is it’s just that…”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m super ripe,” Rhett said apologetically as he sniffed his armpit and grimaced.

 

“Come on,” Link said as he took Rhett’s hand and pulled him towards the showers. 

 

Somehow Rhett managed to shed his pants, and pads. Link turned on the shower and removed his boxers. He threw them at Rhett hitting him in the face. “Oh you’ve done it now, boy,” Rhett said and he pulled off his jockstrap and charged at Link pushing him up against the shower wall, kissing him again. 

 

The water was hot, almost too hot, as it hit his bruised body but with Link’s wide tongue licking down his chest and belly, lapping at runoff, Rhett didn’t care.  He closed his eyes and whimpered at how good it felt. 

 

Link knelt on the rough wet tile and dug his fingertips into Rhett’s hips as he pulled Rhett closer. He took Rhett into his mouth, teasing him at first with just the tip but then he worked Rhett’s thick cock in deeper. Rhett moaned and put a hand on the back of Link’s head to steady him. Link pushed on taking him down his throat. He gagged a little and Rhett jerked back. “Shit, sorry,” he said apologetically as he pulled out completely, letting Link catch his breath.

 

“Dude, if it hasn’t been clear enough on the ice, I like it rough,” Link said as he took Rhett again, deeper than before as if to prove his point. Rhett’s head dipped back under the hot water as his hands pushed Link’s head down.  It was good.  _ So good. _ “Oh fuck Link,” Rhett huffed as he fucked Link’s mouth roughly. “You’re so good baby,” he said as Link dug his fingers harder into Rhett’s hips. 

 

Rhett looked down at the beautiful man on his knees working so hard to please him. Link’s face was red from exertion as his cheeks hollowed around Rhett’s length. His lips were swollen and glistening with spit and precome. He looked up at Rhett, his eyes watering and slightly bloodshot, which only made them more blue. Rhett groaned loudly, placing one hand on the shower wall to steady himself, the other twined into Link’s  silver hair, pulling it as he controlled the pace of Link’s mouth. Link whimpered at the discomfort and nodded his head slightly to say  _ yes, good, more. _

 

Rhett’s legs shook as he came. “Jesus fuck...oh fuuuuuck,” Rhett said as Link licked the last drop of come off of his dick. He pulled Link up on his feet and shoved him against the tile, kissing him again. “That was… oh my god Link,” he said, his hands all over Link’s body. They were still under the shower, both sopping wet, steam curling off their bodies from the hot water. 

 

Rhett’s hand found its way to Link’s cock which was rock hard and in desperate need of attention. “You’re such a goddamned slut, sucking me off on the shower like that,” Rhett growled in his ear and he jerked him off. He had an inkling that if Link liked it rough, he also liked it dirty. Link’s groan of ecstasy and the way his eyes rolled back in his head when Rhett called him a slut was all the affirmation Rhett needed. Rhett wrapped his other hand around Link’s throat, and squeezed gently. “Bet you’d let the whole team fuck you, wouldn’t you?” 

 

Link bit his lip and choked out, “fuck yeah.”

 

“Mmm. Bet you’d want them lined up around the corner to fuck you. Fill you up with come. Your team and mine. Hell, the whole league. You’d be such a good little whore for them.” he said, giving another squeeze to Link’s throat.

 

“Fuck, Rhett,” Link moaned.

 

The door to the locker room creaked open and a woman’s voice yelled in, “closing in ten minutes boys!” The showers were around the corner from the door, there was no way they were seen, but being nearly caught was enough to tip Link over the edge. He came over both their bellies with a guttural moan.

 

The pair showered and dressed in silence. Both of their heads were spinning from their encounter. For Rhett, it had been months since he’d been with anyone, let alone anyone who drove him as crazy as Link. It was like he knew exactly what he liked. Their chemistry was undeniably electric. They picked up their gear bags and made their way towards the exit. Just before leaving the locker room Rhett grabbed Link by the elbow and pulled him in for one last kiss. He could feel Link smile as he kissed him. It wasn’t rough and aggressive like it had been earlier, but sweet and tender. 

 

They walked out to the parking lot together, and wordlessly got into their respective cars. Rhett pulled down the overhead visor and opened the mirror. His face looked rough, the big gash over his left eye was barely being held together with a bandage and was swollen, a bruise rapidly appearing. His nose was swollen too, as were his lips, but he suspected that was from the rough kissing, not the fighting. The one undeniable fact, was the massive shit eating grin on his face that try as he might, he couldn’t will away. 


	5. Butt Ending

**Overtime** _ \- a method of determining the winner and loser of ice hockey matches should a game be tied after regulation. Two main methods include the overtime period, and the shootout _

 

**Butt-Ending-** _ Using the shaft of the stick to jab or attempt to jab an opposing player. Known in Quebec as "donner six pouces" (to give six inches).  _ (i mean...the smut just writes itself.)

 

**Chirping or jawing** _ -shit talking, getting the other team riled up with insults _

 

The Firebirds were facing off against The Muskrats for the last time this season, and as usual Rhett was nervous, but this time for a completely different reason. He hadn’t seen Link since their steamy shower room rendezvous and he had no idea where things stood. He wished he had at least gotten Link’s number, or mustered up the courage to ask Sully for it, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being a successful matchmaker, and didn’t want Link to think he was desperate. Truthfully, it was all he had been able to think about.

 

He got dressed in his gear and made his way to the ice, checking himself out in the mirror on the way to the rink.  _ You’re a fucking idiot _ he thought to himself as he fluffed up his hair. 

 

He sighed and strapped on his helmet and put in his mouthguard. He got on the ice and warmed up. His stomach twisted into fluttery knots when Link took to the ice. He immediately skated over to Rhett. “Hey beardo,” he said, getting close. 

 

“Hey,” Rhett said, trying not to burst into a huge grin at the sight of this man.

 

“Last game, huh?” Link said, leaning on his stick, not making eye contact with Rhett.

 

Rhett’s heart sunk at Link’s aloofness. “Yup,” Rhett replied, trying to act disinterested.

 

Link leaned in and quietly said, “winner fucks the loser?” Rhett’s jaw hung open and Link winked at him as he skated backwards away from him. Rhett nodded slowly, his eyes sharp, trained on Link.

 

They were first shift and lined up at the red line, facing each other. “Hey darlin’, “ Rhett hollered for everyone to hear. “Puck bunnies belong in the stands, not at centre ice.”

 

“Ohhh looks like big bird learnt how to chirp! Well if you’re gonna jaw, I got something you can jaw right here,” Link replied rubbing his crotch. 

 

“Cocky fucker,” Rhett replied, trying to reign in his grin.

 

The ref blew the whistle and dropped the puck at centre ice. 

 

The Muskrat’s forward took control of the puck, and skated down the ice, flipping it over to Link who tipped it into the net only forty-five seconds into the first period.

“Fuck,” Rhett muttered to himself as he watched the other team celebrate the goal.

 

Play resumed and the puck traveled up and down the ice with no goals for several minutes. Rhett eventually got control of the puck and shot at the goal, sending the puck up and over the net where a Muskrat took control of it, passing it to a teammate who put it in the Firebirds goal. “I know you’re American, but what the  _ fuck _ are you doin’ playing hockey?” Link asked with a snide grin as he skated past.  

 

“I thought Canadian’s were supposed to be  _ nice _ ,” Rhett hissed.

 

Truth be told he was sweating. The Muskrats were up two-zero at the end of the first period and he was stressed about how he was going to make up the lost ground. It wasn’t so much that he refused to bottom, but at this point it was about his pride. He didn’t know if this was going to be a one time thing or not, and if that was the case, he wanted to fuck the smirk right off number sixty-nine’s face.

 

Halfway through the second period fortune smiled upon Rhett and he managed to get a breakaway while Link was off the ice. He skated hard and fast, slapping the puck hard into the goal, setting off the red flashing lights.

 

Another player on the Muskrats, number eleven, scored. Then Sully wrapped up the second period with a goal for the Firebirds.

 

In the third period Rhett and Link were back on the same shift. Rhett had control of the puck and was trying to get it across the blue line but Link was in hot pursuit. He got in Rhett’s space, and as he tried to get the puck away from him accidentally struck Rhett in the eye with the end of his stick. “Shit, you ok?” he whispered.

 

“I’m totally fine,” Rhett whispered back, winking the eye that was struck before grasping it with his glove an letting out a loud moan of pain. 

 

“Two minutes for butt-ending,” the ref said, escorting Link to the penalty box. “Mother Fucker!” Link muttered. Even across the ice Rhett could see he was laughing and shaking his head at Rhett’s exaggerated injury. At this point the game they were playing had nothing to do with hockey. In matters of lust playing dirty was not only allowed, but encouraged. 

 

With Link taking a penalty the Firebirds left winger scored a power play goal tying up the game, while Rhett sat on the bench, icing his eye. It was causing him no pain, but he had to keep up appearances of being injured.

 

The clock ran down and the horn blared indicating the end of the third period. The score, three-three. Their fate was to be determined by an overtime shootout.

 

Each team selected three players that would take turns shooting at the goal. Sully was up first, the ref placed the puck at centre ice and Sully skated down the ice and shot in the top right of the goal. The goalie caught the puck with his glove.

 

Then a team member from the Muskrats shot at the Firebirds goalie, missing the goal completely. The Firebirds team members slapped the sideboards in celebration.

 

One of Rhett’s teammates shot next. He attempted to shoot it between the goalie’s legs but the goalie dropped to his knees, blocking the path of the puck.

 

Another Muskrat took a shot and the Firebirds goalie blocked it with his stick.

 

Rhett’s heart was pounding with adrenaline. He took a deep breath and skated fast down the ice, working the puck from left to right, he pulled back and sent the puck flying to the top left corner of the net. Rhett  yelped with joy and his team mates pulled him into a big, threeway hug.

 

“Suck it, Neal!” Rhett said, as Link lined up to take his shot. Link shot Rhett a crooked grin and skated towards the goal, shooting the puck directly at the goalie’s pads. Rhett’s jaw dropped with the realization that Link had basically thrown his shot, losing the game and their bet.

 

The Firebirds piled onto the ice in celebration, all crowding around Rhett in congratulations for his game winning goal. Rhett craned his neck looking for Link. Their eyes met and Link gave him a knowing nod. Rhett swallowed hard with the realization of what was about to happen.

  
  


In the locker room Rhett dolled out high fives and hugs, but he wished his teammates would clear out already so he could be alone with Link. He took off his skates, jersey, and pads and hung out shirtless in his pants, the room finally empty of his teammates. The door creaked open and Link stuck his head in. Rhett motioned that the coast was clear and Link made his way over to him, dropping his bag by the lockers. Link had removed his skates and pads, his sweaty jersey hung loosely on his broad shoulders. Rhett grabbed him by the jersey and pulled him close. He kissed him hard, tasting the salty sweat still on Link’s lips.

 

“You threw the game,” Rhett said between kisses.

 

“You played dirty,” Link replied. “I should have expected it, dirty boy.”

 

“Strip,” Rhett commanded. Link compiled as Rhett went over to the door, blocking it with his bag full of hockey pads. He wanted to make sure they weren't interrupted.

 

Link tucked his thumbs into the waist of his jockstrap and began to pull it down. “No, leave it on,” Rhett said motioning for Link to stop. Link grinned a toothy grin and sat on the thin wood bench. Rhett walked over and began to unlace his hockey pants. He bent down to kiss him again, his hands twisting in Link’s hair. Link licked his lips as he pulled Rhett closer by the hips.  He pulled down Rhett’s pants and jockstrap and eagerly began to suck his already stiffening cock. Rhett moaned. Link’s warm mouth felt so good and he knew exactly what to do to get Rhett going. “Mmm you keep going like that I’m gonna come right now and that’s no fun,” Rhett said, gently shoving Link off him. “Turn around,” he said, slapping Link on the thigh.

 

Link reached over and grabbed a bottle of lube and condom out of his bag, handing them to Rhett before bending over the bench. “You came prepared,” Rhett said, dripping lube from the half empty bottle onto his thick fingers. 

 

“Oh, I’m prepared alright,” Link replied. Rhett understood what he meant by prepared when he went to finger Link and found him already slick with lube.

 

“Oh fuck!” Rhett gasped.

 

“Well I had to do something while I waited,” Link replied with a chuckle.

 

“You fingered your ass in the changeroom with all your teammates there?” Rhett asked trying to pull his jaw off the floor.

 

“Yeah in the bathroom stall,” Link grinned.

 

“Mmmm that’s my dirty boy,” Rhett replied, giving Link’s ass a slap. It looked so deliciously round and inviting, the straps of the jockstrap framing his butt and making his cheeks look extra pert.

 

Rhett rolled on the condom and applied more lube to his cock. He positioned himself against Link and slowly pushed into him. His hands grasped Link’s hips as he entered him, Rhett groaned as he bottomed out and Link whimpered. Rhett slowly picked up the pace, going harder and faster. One hand held onto Link’s hip while the other pulled on the waist of Link’s jockstrap like reins. Link’s body shuddered with pleasure with every thrust. His head dipped down as he moaned into his chest. “Mmmm fuck,” Rhett said as he fucked him, his hand twisting in the elastic waistband of his jockstrap.

 

“Shit, stop,” Link said breathlessly. Rhett pulled out, worried he had done something wrong. That he’d hurt Link or Link had changed his mind. Link stood up and pulled out the hard athletic cup from his jockstrap that had been painfully digging into his erection. “Sorry,” he said with a grin.

 

Rhett sat on the bench and pulled Link into his lap, entering him again. Link rode him, his thin body bouncing up and down on Rhett’s cock. Rhett nipped at his shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. Link’s hips rocked as Rhett bucked into him. “Fuck you feel so good,” Rhett growled. Link’s full lips fell open as he arched his back, his nails dug into Rhett’s shoulders for leverage. 

 

Rhett was getting close. It felt so good and was so out of the ordinary from his usual lame dinner date before bedding a guy. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around Link’s cock, working it in time with their rhythm. Link moaned loudly as he came. The tightness of his ass on Rhett’s cock as he orgasmed sent Rhett over the edge too. He came hard, gripping onto Link for dear life. 

 

Rhett pulled out and wrapped his arms around Link, who still sat in his lap. He kissed him passionately. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

 

“Yeah,” Link replied, as he tried to catch his breath. 

 

“This isn’t the way I do things normally but-,” Rhett said slightly embarrassed. “-wanna go for a beer or something?”

 

Link grinned, “only if we can shower first.”

 

They made their way to the shower, Rhett adjusted the temperature so it was just right and pulled Link under, kissing him again. Rhett lathered up his own hair, then Link’s. Gently scratching Link’s scalp as he worked the lather up, making him purr. 

 

It was like they had known each other for years, the way they silently passed the soap back and forth, the way Rhett sweetly wrapped a towel around Link’s waist, the way Link snapped Rhett’s ass with the wet towel when he was done with it, the way Link pulled Rhett’s toque down so it would cover his ears, and the way Rhett looped Link’s scarf around his long beautiful neck. 

 

Link reached out with his long slender fingers and lightly grazed Rhett’s eye that he had hit with his stick. “Shit, I know you said it didn’t hurt but it looks like you’re gonna have a shiner.”

 

“Man, everyone at work is gonna think my boyfriend’s beating on me,” Rhett replied.

 

Link look up at him with a grin, “boyfriend, eh?”

 

“Oh crap, I mean, not that you’re my boyfriend, shoot...” Rhett said, his cheeks high and pink with embarrassment.

 

“I could be,” Link replied. “How about we go get that beer?”

 

The pair grabbed their gear and walked out of the rink, mittened hand in mittened hand out into the falling snow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks, thanks for reading this stupid fic. thanks to my husband, Kyle, for the assist with the hockey stuff (assist...see what i did there? haha. good joke, Liz.)


End file.
